The Best Days Of My Life
by Tormented Shore
Summary: Jack and Rose meet at a Hollywood party under some not-so-nice circumstances and end up falling in love. (Present Time)
1. A Party As Boring As Shit

Title: The Best Days Of My Life  

Author: Within A Dream  

Rating: PG-13  
  
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Chapter 1: A Party As Boring As Shit  
  
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Jack sighed; he really didn't want to be here. He could think of a million things he would rather be doing right now than sitting here at this Hollywood party, doing absolutely nothing. Despite the music, no one was dancing; everyone just mingled and ate the hors d'oeuvres, even though all of the toothpick skinny super models would probably make themselves throw it back up anyway.  

Jack reached in his pocket and grabbed his keys. "This place is ass," he mumbled. He knew he shouldn't leave; it was some unwritten rule that you couldn't leave one of these parties until two in the morning. But drastic times call for drastic measures. This party was as boring as shit, and he swore if he had to sit in that chair for five more minutes he would scream. So Jack did something that no one else would dare; he walked out the front door, but unfortunately, Fabrizio followed him.  Jack pretended not to notice his friend following him. He managed to keep about a foot ahead of Fabrizio. When Jack finally got to his car he didn't waist any time; he hopped in and started the engine. But when he heard the passenger door open, he cursed himself for not locking the doors.  "Jack, you can't leave," Fabrizio told him, through his thick Italian accent.  

"Well now I can't, but if you'd be so kind as to shut the door I'd-"  

"Jack, you've only been here an hour."  

"And that's an hour too long, if you ask me."  

"You know what this will do to your reputation."  

"Screw my reputation, Fabri."  

"They're starting to talk, Jack."  

"They hell with them."  

"They're starting to wonder."  

"Let them wonder."  

"They never see you with women, Jack. You can have practically any woman you want," Fabrizio then paused, "Even I have to admit that it is a little strange that you went to Paris and drew the naked prostitutes when everyone else would have screwed them."  

Jack flinched at the harshness of Fabrizio's words. Even Fabrizio was a little shocked at what he had said. "God damn it, Fabrizio, why are you doing this?"  

"You're trying to change the subject, Jack. I've seen those models look at you. That Gisele chick was all over you and you didn't even seem to notice; anyone would have killed to be in your shoes."  

"I'll know the woman for me when I see her."  

"When you see her. You're not getting any younger, Jack."  

"I'm freaking twenty-five years old!"  

"You'll be twenty-six in September."  

"What do you want me to do Fabrizio?"  

"Stay."  

"Fine. If that'll shut you up, I'll stay."  

Fabrizio smiled to himself and then shut the car door. Jack was tempted to drive off, but he knew that he should keep his word. But he did reach over and grab a portfolio that lay on the passenger seat. He opened the car door and reluctantly stepped out. "I'm not going inside. We can sit over there," Jack said, motioning to a garden, which was overlooked by a deck that wrapped around the back of the house.  

"That's not exactly what I meant when I-" Fabrizio began, but then Jack gave him a look that told him that he had better shut up or else.  

Despite himself Jack was glad that he had stayed. The garden was peaceful, a good place for drawing. As Jack and Fabrizio walked through the garden, they noticed a man sitting on one of the concrete benches. Jack sat down next to him and offered his hand, "Jack Dawson."  

"Tommy Ryan," the man said through his Irish accent. Fabrizio had been to Ireland before, and he started chatting to Tommy about his visit, which gave Jack a chance to draw. Jack noticed another person in the garden, a middle-aged man who he recognized as Bert Cartmell, a well-known director. Jack began sketching Bert, and he didn't even notice that Fabrizio and Tommy had stopped talking to watch him at work. "Do you make any money with your drawings?" Tommy asked. Jack looked up from his drawing and was about to answer Tommy when he saw the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. She was leaning over the railing of the deck above him, her red hair falling around her face. She looked like someone in a romantic novel, sad and isolated. Her eyes met Jack's piercing gaze for a split second. She tried not to look back, but couldn't resist. Their eyes met again and this time she didn't look away. But soon she was forced back into reality when a dark-haired man tapped her on the shoulder. Jack watched her as she stormed away.  

Jack looked back at Tommy who looked very disapproving. "So you've fallen for Miss Dewitt Bukater have you? Forget it, you'll never get next to the likes of her. Did you see all the men there?" Tommy asked. "They are all in love with her. Of course she's too naïve to think that they want anymore than just a friendship. She's very particular about the men she dates. She's only had a few relationships and they were all serious relationships. Forget about her."  

But the thing was, Jack couldn't forget about her. After a few minutes more of sitting with Fabrizio and Tommy, Jack excused himself and climbed the stairs to the deck.  

The house was built strangely, and whenever a room stood out from the house, the deck did as well. So needless to say, the deck took many sharp turns and had many hidden places, which weren't visible unless you were looking specifically for them. Jack found one of those nice hidden places, which had a bench, and he lay down on it, resting his head on the back of his hands. His thoughts drifted to the girl he had seen. Despite what Tommy said, Jack felt like he had some strange connection to her. He was sure that none of the other men that had fallen for her had felt the way that he had. Jack hoped that he would see her again, he didn't care if they were just friends, he wanted to get to know her; to make that sad look in her eyes disappear.  

But Jack was soon brought back into reality when he heard a woman screaming at the top of her lungs. He got to his feet as fast as he could and started running toward the sound of the screams. Jack took a few sharp turns and that's when he found the source of the screaming. He saw a dark-haired man on top of the redheaded woman that he had seen earlier.  

Jack paused for a split-second, staring in disbelief, "Holy shit."  

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jack asked as he shoved the man, who he now recognized from earlier, off of the woman. "Get the hell off her!" The obviously drunk man managed to stumble to his feet and tried to make his escape, but Jack grabbed him and balled up a huge farmer's fist and punched him across his face. Before the man could respond Jack kneed him and the man doubled over in pain. Jack could already see the man's eye turning blue and soon it would be so swollen that the man wouldn't be able to see out of his right eye. The man managed to run up the stairs to another deck that was above the one where they were now. Jack was about to pursue the man further, but when taking one look at the sobbing heap before him, he knew he couldn't leave her.  

Jack tried to help her into a standing position, but her body seemed unable to hold itself up. He somehow got her into a sitting position and was going to help her put her dress back on, but the dress was shredded to pieces. Jack knew her bra and underwear wouldn't suffice as clothing so he removed his leather jacket and placed it around her sobbing body. He tried once again to get her into a standing position, and this time succeeded with her leaning most of her weight on him. She tried to take a step but then let out a cry in pain and almost fell to the floor, but Jack somehow caught her in time. Jack then scooped her up in her arms, realizing that the man had done a lot more damage than he had suspected. He carried her back to the bench and placed her down. Jack then sat down himself and put the woman's foot in his lap. Her foot was black and blue and was badly swollen. "Holy shit," Jack mumbled and he gently touched her foot with his thumb and she winced in pain.  

It was lucky that Jack had been the one to find her; he had gone to medical school as a back-up job just in case acting hadn't worked out. He at once new her foot was broken, but he didn't know quite what to do. He still had a key to the doctor's office, for he still worked there when he wasn't working on a film. Jack thought that he should tell someone what happened, but he couldn't take her inside with him and he couldn't leave her alone.  

Jack looked over at her and she seemed to be sobbing harder. He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He rocked her back and forth as he tried to hush her. "Shh," Jack mumbled as he kissed her forehead, "You're safe now. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." She seemed to quiet considerably at this and only the sound that could be heard was that of Jack's soothing voice.  

When she seemed to have calmed down Jack looked her in the eye, "Did he-"  

"No," the woman said quietly.  

"I need to get help."  

"No," she begged, "Don't leave me."  

"It'll only be for a second-"  

"No!" she shouted, the tone of her voice sounding surprisingly harsh for someone who appeared to be so helpless.  

Jack paused for a second, "Then we need to get you to my office. I'm a doctor and I can make sure that there is nothing else wrong with you."  

"Else?" she repeated.  

Jack hesitated, "Your foot is broken."  

She just stared in disbelief. "Then we need to go," she said quietly. "But if we're seen by anyone-"  

"I'm going to get you to my car without being seen." He then paused and stood up, with her once again in his arms, "Do you trust me?"  

"I trust you."  
  
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_Author's Note: So what do you think? Reviews are greatly appreciated!_


	2. A Happy Memory, Despite It All

Title: The Best Days Of My Life  

Author: Within A Dream  

Rating: PG-13  

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Chapter 2: A Happy Memory, Despite It All  

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_Author's Note: I am so sorry I haven't added anything to this story since I wrote it in July.  But you have to understand that I had the worst case of writers block I've ever experienced, and for that I apologize.  Anyways, I hope you enjoy chapter two!  And also, I know Cal might not be this cruel, but someone has to be the bad guy!  I hope I don't get accused for being a 'Cal hater', because I really don't hate him at all!  It's just easier to make him a heartless person with no depth at all. ;)  No, seriously, one of these days I plan to write a story from Cal's point of view where it shows that he's actually a good person, just a bit jealous.  But in this story, blame it on his severe emotional problems. ;)  _

_*~*~*~*~*~_

_The National Enquirer, July 28  _

_Rose DeWitt Bukater, as well as some other of Hollywood's hottest stars, was attending a party at the producer Andrew Thomas's house on July 9.   According to sources, fellow actor Caledon Hockley had been following DeWitt Bukater around throughout the whole party.  _

_DeWitt Bukater said that their relationship was strictly a friendship, but it appears that if Hockley had been asked the question he would have told otherwise.  "Rose thought of Cal as a close friend, but Cal wanted more than a friendship.  He had asked Rose to go on dates with him on many occasions but she would gently refuse.  Sometimes I would see him corner her and say crude and disrespectful comments, but I never thought he'd go this far," a close source told us on a phone interview.  "A few days before the party Rose told me that Cal had been acting strangely and that she didn't know if their friendship could continue," another close source confirmed.   We asked Hockley himself how he felt about DeWitt Bukater and about going into trial on the second of August.  All of America will be watching as Hockley will most likely be sentenced to prison.  He made no comment.  _

*~*~*~*~*~ 

Rose couldn't read anymore, she sighed very dramatically and threw the magazine on the coffee table along with the rest, about twenty other magazines that all had her picture on the cover.  She was just sick of this whole thing!  In a few days she would have to go to trial and watch Cal try to buy his way out of this one.  Rose wished that she could just drop the charges and pretend this had never happened.  

*~*~*~*~*~

Flashback

*~*~*~*~*~  

_Rose sighed, happy to get away from all of those people at the party.  She hadn't wanted to come in the first place but Andrew Thomas, who she had formed a very close friendship with while he produced a movie she had been in recently had pressured her into going.  Andrew was one of the only people she knew who could carry an intellectual conversation with her.  _

_It was a peaceful night; it seemed especially peaceful after being shut up indoors with too many people crowded into one space and music blaring in your ears.  Rose casually leaned over the railing of the balcony and looked out into one of the most beautiful gardens she had ever seen.  She noticed some people; they were sitting on the edge of one of the many concrete benches throughout the garden and she wondered if they were outside to get away from everyone like she was.  Rose watched a man with blonde hair, and she noticed that  he was deeply absorbed in whatever it was that he was drawing.  She didn't even realize she was staring at him until he looked up and caught her gaze.  Rose felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment and quickly looked away, but found her eyes drifting back to his piercing gaze.  At first she felt a bit self-conscience for it was like he was looking directly into who she was, instead of the persona she wore that everyone else saw.  But after a few seconds, their gaze's seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces and she felt she could stare at him forever, trying to figure out what was behind his beautiful blue eyes.  _

_But then she suddenly felt someone tap her on the shoulder and she whirled around, furious at whoever it was that made her break eye contact with the man.  Standing behind her was the last person she wanted to see; Cal.  But he either didn't notice or seemingly ignored her anger at him and spoke with such a superior air she gritted her teeth with disgust.  "You don't want to stare at people like you were at him, Rose.  They might get the wrong idea," he smirked.  "Jack Dawson got into acting a few years ago.  Unlike you and me, his family has not been in the business for generations.  Do yourself a favor and don't mix yourself with people like that."  _

_Rose was fuming!  But why was she getting so protective over someone she had never even spoken to?  It didn't make sense!  She was so furious that no words would come to her mouth; the only thing she seemed to be able to do was glare and shake her head.  After a few seconds of doing this, her legs seemed to remember that they could indeed move and she swung around and stormed away.  _

_Rose was wondering aimlessly around the deck, completely absorbed in thoughts about that man, Jack.  She kept repeating his name in her head, a grin plastered to her face.  Rose had completely forgotten about her encounter with Cal until two hands gripping her shoulders reminded her.  Cal swung her around so that she was facing him.  _

_"What was that?" he demanded, the alcohol evident on his breath as he shook her with anger.  _

_ "I don't know what you're talking about!" she spat.  _

_"Don't use that tone of voice with me!  You know exactly want I'm talking about!"  _

_"I'm not even your girlfriend and you're acting like some pretentious, over-protective bastard!  You can't control me!"  _

_Suddenly Cal stopped shaking her and just stood there, his fingernails digging into her shoulders.  That's when her anger turned into fear, a lot of fear.  Rose had seen him like this once before when she had talked to another man at a party.  But this was worse, much worse.  She felt him moving forward and she instinctively backed away from him until she hit the back of the house with a thud.  He pinned her wrists against the brick wall and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard when she felt him step on both of her feet so she couldn't knee him.  She silently cursed herself for not kneeing him in the groin when she had had the chance.  The words he spoke were almost in a whisper, but the intensity and mock understanding was frightening.  "Oh Rose, I can control you.  I can control you.  Do you understand?"  _

_Rose told herself to just nod her head and he'd probably let it go and she could get back to the party, forget about Jack; forget this whole thing had ever happened.  But her mouth didn't cooperate, "You can't control me!"  She then struggled to free herself from his grip, "Let go of me!"  But her attempt was in vain.  _

_"I can control you, Rose!" he hissed before crashing his mouth on hers and forcing her lips apart.  She took advantage of his tongue being inside her mouth and quickly brought her teeth down on it as hard as she could.  She could taste the blood that wasn't her own, and when he grabbed his mouth cursing to himself it gave her just enough time to get herself free from her grip.  Only one problem; she was wearing incredibly high strappy sandals that made running, or even walking incredibly difficult... and it hurt!  She had to stop and grab her foot in pain and when she felt two cold hands grab her waist she cursed herself for wearing such ridiculous footwear.  _

_ "Let me control you, Rose!" He whispered.  _

_"No." she said hoarsely.  _

_Cal smiled evilly at her, "Oh I will have my way, Rose.  I always get my way, one way or another."  _

_"Not this time, you bastard!"  Rose whispered before he threw her on the floor and started ripping her already nearly nonexistent dress into shreds.  This seemed to awaken her vocal chords and she started screaming at the top of her lungs.  _

_"Shut up!" he hissed.  But Rose paid no attention and continued her screaming, hoping that someone, anyone would hear and help her.  _

_And when both she and her voice were about to give up, she saw the saw the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  A man.  And not just any man; Jack Dawson had come to save her.  _

*~*~*~*~*~

End of flashback

*~*~*~*~*~ 

She smiled in spite of herself; she seemed to do that a lot whenever she thought about Jack Dawson.  Cal had indeed broken her foot, and Jack had been so kind as to drive her to the doctor's office where he worked and had put it in a cast for her.  She looked down at her foot and smiled.  Jack had drawn sketches of her dog, Merlin all over the cast.  She remembered the first time Jack had met the old Greyhound that she had saved from being killed with all of the other Greyhounds that were too old to race anymore.  They had come back to her house after he had fixed her foot.  There hadn't been any crutches at the office, and even if there had been she wasn't sure could have held herself up anyways.  So Jack had carried her out of the doctors' office and also into her house.  Rose ran her hands down her shoulders, thinking about how nice it had been to be held in his arms.  Jack had walked through the front door holding Rose in the cradle and then suddenly out of nowhere Merlin had showed up and started barking like mad.  Jack had nearly dropped her while Rose was laughing hysterically, and when Jack realized it was just a dog he joined in the laughter too.  That was one of the things she liked about Jack; he was able to laugh at himself.  

Rose lived by herself, not including Trudy, her live in maid and cook.  Of course that dreadful night had been one of the days Trudy had been on vacation.  But Jack had been very sweet and had stayed in one of her extra bedrooms that night despite her objections that she would be fine.  Rose knew that Jack was afraid that Cal would sneak into her house and try to 'get his way' again.  He had lost his pride, and it was almost a fact he would be going to jail; so he really didn't have anything else to lose.  

Rose reached for her blue cordless phone and pressed the redial button.  She smiled when she heard the familiar male voice that she had grown so fond of.  

"Hey Jack.  I was going to take Merlin for a drive to the lake and maybe stay at the lake house for a few days.  You know there are three bedrooms and everything, and I was wondering if you'd like to come.  You would?  Okay then, can you be packed and ready by six?  Great, see you then."  

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_Author's Note: So what do you guys think?  Reviews are greatly appreciated!_


	3. While The Court Is In Recess

Title: The Best Days Of My Life 

Author: Within A Dream 

Rating: PG-13

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Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long.  I really have no excuse.  I came up the plot of this chapter after Thanksgiving dinner while I lay on my bed in a fetal position, which precluded me from procrastinating anymore since I had nothing to distract myself with.  So here's chapter three.  Enjoy!                       *~*~*~*~*~ 

Chapter 3:  While The Court Is In Recess

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"The court is now in recess" 

Rose took a deep breath as an attempt to calm her nerves.  This was it; there was nothing more she could do.  Rose, her lawyer, Jack as the attempted-rape witness, and countless others who witnessed Cal's behavior around her had done the best that they could to prove that Cal was indeed guilty.  Now the rest lay in the courts hands.

Rose felt a strong and reassuring arm around her shoulder and she turned her head and smiled weakly at Jack.  "It'll be fine," Jack told her for the millionth time.  Rose nodded meekly and they made their way back to Jack's car.  

Jack opened the passenger door of the red convertible and offered Rose his right hand, "Watch your step milady." 

Rose once again attempted a smile, but was quite unsuccessful and Jack frowned.  "What's the matter?" he asked.

"I...I don't know," Rose told, her bottom lip trembling.

Jack walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door.  He sat down and grinned.  "PMS again?" he asked playfully.  Instead of Rose rolling her eyes and smiling like he had hoped she would, all he got was a glare.  "I was just kidding," he assured her.

Rose sighed and looked down at her feet.  "I know.  It's just...I can't help but feel a little sorry for Cal," she said quietly.

"He brought this on himself, my dear."

"I know...It's just...  I feel like something bad is going to happen to him.  And because of me," Rose tried to explain.

"Yeah, he's going to be locked up in jail for fifteen years."  But when Jack saw Rose's resentfulness he sighed.  "Look.  He hurt you really badly.  You had to wobble around on those damn crutches for four weeks, and even now you're just in a walking cast.  No one made him do that."  But Rose still didn't look convinced.  "You've seen those five little scars around each of your shoulders.  Those are from his fingers digging into your flesh.  And he broke your freaking foot for god's sake!  Not to mention him ripping your clothes off and forced himself on you!" Jack sighed, and spoke the next words a little quieter, "He's a bastard, Rose.  And bastards like him deserve to go to jail."

Rose let out a heart-wrenching sob and Jack sighed.  "Come here," he said pulling into his lap.  All else had failed and this was the only thing he could do.  It looked like he wasn't going to start the car anytime soon.  Jack frowned while he rocked back and forth.  How was he going to make this girl smile again?  Perhaps he should comfort her and at the same time try to make her laugh?  That might work.

"Tell Auntie Jack all about it," he said in a Jamaican accent.  Rose let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.  ...That was something.

Rose pulled away from Jack's chest trying to get a hold on herself.  She sniffed rather dramatically and rubbed the tears from her eyes on the back of her hand.  "This whole thing is all my fault."  
Jack looked her in the eye and tried to explain it to her once again, "It is his fault he's going to jail.  You were just the reason."  

Rose raised her eyebrows, and Jack frowned.  "Wait a minute...I..." Jack began exasperatedly, feeling very annoyed at Rose's 'knowing grin'.  "You know what I mean!"

Jack's faltering seemed to be just what Rose needed and she climbed out of his lap and onto the passenger seat.  "I'm being silly.  Of course it's his fault he's going to jail."  She then bit her lip.  "But I can't help but feel like something else is going to happen to him..." she began, but then pushed all thoughts of Cal out of her head.  "Take me home!" she ordered with a dramatic wave of her hand.

*~*~*~*~*~

Jack and Rose traveled most of the way chatting and smiling; just having a good time.  But as soon as Rose turned on the radio wanting to here a lively song to suit her happy mood, she was quite befuddled.  The song that happened to be playing was one that held some meaning in it, it her father's favorite song.  She remembered the day when she was barely eight years old and she and her father were going through the attic, despite her mother's objections that the maid should be the one cleaning.  Rose had been sorting through some things in an old oak trunk and had come across a Bill Withers 8-track.  Subsequently, her father found his old 8-track player a few moments earlier.  So they put the 8-track in the 8-track player and when the song titled 'Lean On Me' started playing, Rose took an immediate liking to it.  Rose had never heard it before, for her mother was not one to have the radio blaring, and her father never seemed to be home long enough to turn on the radio.  He was always on 'business trips' and such.  She was fifteen-years-old when he father died of a heart attack, and she would learn that the 'business trips' he had told her mother and her about were actually trips to Los Vegas where he was quite the gambler.  That was where he died actually, in Los Vegas right outside a casino.  Apparently he had bet nearly everything they had, and had lost.  Rose, and her mother and father had lived in a top floor of a very ritzy apartment building in New York City.  But of course when they heard about her father's death and the lost money they were forced to sell they're expensive furniture and move out of the apartment that Rose had grown up in.  Rose's new home was quite a different atmosphere.  To put it nicely, the apartment was disgusting.  She remembered her mother spraying everything in their apartment with Lysol.  It was grotesque, but it was the only fully furnished apartment they could afford.  One of the only things Rose had kept was her father's 8-track player, and the Bill Withers 8-track.  The day of her father's funeral Rose had locked herself up in the bedroom that she and her mother shared and didn't come out for days.  She remembered her mother banging on the bedroom door, begging her to come out, but Rose had drowned out her mother's voice by playing 'Lean On Me'.  So her mother had left for the funeral without her.  Looking back, that was one of the things Rose regretted, not going to her father's funeral and never being able to say goodbye. 

Rose mindlessly started singing along with the song.  She knew each word by heart despite that she hadn't heard it the song in over five years.  She had never heard the song again after her mother had found both the 8-track and the 8-track player and sold them, selling the only link she had to her deceased husband.  A poignant smile spread across her face and tears filled her eyes. 

_Sometimes in our lives we all have pain  
We all have sorrow  
But if we are wise  
We know that there's always tomorrow  
  
Lean on me, when you're not strong  
And I'll be your friend  
I'll help you carry on  
For it won't be long  
'Til I'm gonna need  
Somebody to lean on  
  
Please swallow your pride  
If I have things you need to borrow  
For no one can fill those of your needs  
That you don't let show  
  
Lean on me, when you're not strong  
And I'll be your friend  
I'll help you carry on  
For it won't be long  
'Til I'm gonna need  
Somebody to lean on  
  
If there is a load you have to bear  
That you can't carry  
I'm right up the road  
I'll share your load  
If you just call me  
  
So just call on me brother, when you need a hand  
We all need somebody to lean on  
I just might have a problem that you'd understand  
We all need somebody to lean on  
  
Lean on me when you're not strong  
And I'll be your friend  
I'll help you carry on  
For it won't be long  
Till I'm gonna need  
Somebody to lean on  
  
Lean on me…_

Jack was puzzled by Rose's sudden silence after the song was finished, but the few glances he shot her lead him to believe that she wasn't worrying about the case.  She was thinking about else, something very emotional that she would tell him about in time.  Jack knew better than to question her now, so they rode the rest of the way in silence.

*~*~*~*~*~

  
When they arrived at Rose's house and they stepped out of the car Jack was very confused about Rose.  The expression on her face appeared as if she felt like she was in a dream or something.  Rose told Jack that he could do whatever he liked before she excused herself and went upstairs.  Jack was sitting on the couch watching the news for over an hour as Rose was upstairs taking a bath Jack guessed.  When she finally came downstairs she was no longer wearing that blank expression on her face.  She stood in the doorway, self-consciously adjusting her plaid flannel pajama pants and fixing the straps on her white tank top.    
"So, we're watching a movie?" Rose asked, a bit too enthusiastically.

Jack nodded his head slightly, "Sure." 

Rose clasped her hands together.  "All right then.  I'll go make some popcorn," she told him before exiting into the kitchen.

Jack turned his attention back to the television screen and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.  "Rose come here quick!" he shouted.

"I'll be there in a minute," Rose told him, rather annoyed at him as she fumbled with opening the popcorn bag and burning herself on the steam.

"Come now!  I think you'd want to see this!"  
Rose sighed and made her way back to the television set, still holding the bag of popcorn between her thumb and index finger.  "What is it Jack?" she snapped.   Rose then glanced at the television set and gasped.  The bag of popcorn fell to the ground, and the popcorn kernels scattered over the hardwood floor, unnoticed.

Caledon Hockley had committed suicide.

*~*~*~*~*~  
  
_Author's Note: Reviews are greatly appreciated!_


	4. That Bastard Dawson

The Best Days of My Life

_By Within A Dream_

**Authors Note:** I am so sorry!  I know I said I'd post the fourth about week after I'd written the last chapter, and it's been over a month, and I am _so_ sorry!  I was really, really sick with the flu at the first of December (had a fever of 104-- and my normal is 97!) and was sick on and off throughout December and the beginning of January.  But there _is_ good news!  This fic won the award at Anne's story page for best present-time fic for December 2003.  Isn't that awesome!?  Oh, and another thing.  I asked my uncle, who is a lawyer, and he said that it is not, "the court in now in recess" like my mother told me it was.  It is supposed to be "the court is adjourned", so that needs to be changed.  And if there is anything else wrong with this fic, please tell me and I'll change it.  And with that said, on with the story!

Chapter 4: That Bastard; Dawson

_What the hell am I do here?  _Was the thought that kept playing and replaying in Cal's mind.  _This isn't a place for me.  Jail is supposed to be for crooks and thieves.  People like..._

"Dawson," Cal said aloud.  

And no, Cal hadn't been sentenced to prison...yet.  He wasn't stupid, he knew he was going to be sentenced to jail for fifteen, twenty, or even thirty years.  _For attempted rape and assault.  Attempted rape and assault. Attempted rape and assault._

"God _damn_ it!"  

He needed cigar.  And he needed one badly.  He reached in his pocket knowing very well that there would not be one in there.  But his fingers touched something.  Paper.  Cal smiled slightly as he fingered the bill.  He had put it there months ago, but he didn't want to use it until he was _certain_.  And Cal was certain.  A_ real man makes his own luck.  _

"You there!" he shouted to one of the guards.  The guard frowned at Cal and slowly approached the cell, eying him suspiciously.  

Cal licked his lips and slowly brought out the five hundred dollar bill from his pocket.  He dangled it before the man like it was some sort of treat.  The guard looked flabbergasted, but then resumed to his intense expression. 

"I cannot do that, sir"

"Of course you can," Cal hissed, "You hold the keys, don't you?  You could let the whole fucking lot of us free if you wished."

"I'm sorry sir, but my answer is no." 

  
  
Cal paused, glaring at the man and shaking his head.  "You are a fool!" he spat.

The man swallowed hard and started backing up slowly, watching the cell as if Cal was some sort of mad dog.  He then whirled around, obviously going to get help.

"Wait!" Cal shouted after him, and the man then turned around despite himself.  The guard then slowly walked back towards Cal, frowning at him.

Cursing under his breath Cal reached in another pocket.  The guard gasped when seeing what Cal held in his hand; a thick stack of five hundred dollar bills.  

"Just give me the key."

"I...I...can't," the guard told Cal, not sounding very convincing.

"Just hand over the key."

"I...no."

Cal then started losing his patience.  "You could buy as many fucking keys as you wanted with this much money!  Tell them I pointed a fucking gun at your face, for all I care!"

  
  
The man paused.  "Alright.  Give it to me."

So the guard and Cal both had something in common; they were running from the law.  One was short of sixty-four thousand dollars, the other that much richer, and both trying to make it to another country.  Their plans were simple enough; a changed name, dyed hair, a beard, and an escape to Canada. The guard got away, but Cal...well, Cal...he didn't try.

  
  
Cal was pacing feverishly before his trusted and most loyal bodyguard.  "What the fuck am I supposed to do, Lovejoy?  They are _everywhere_!"  He stopped pacing for a moment and turned towards Lovejoy, clenching his hands in fists.  "And they _will_ find me.  You _know_ that."

"Mr. Hockley, I can assure you they will not find you here.  No one knows about the underground rooms in your house except you and I, and the door is impossible to find." Lovejoy then paused, looking directly into Cal's eyes, "And there are people on your side."

And it was true.  There _were_ people on his side.  Whether it was for the money, or because of their loyalty, there were a total of seven people that were to be completely trusted. 

"I will page those that are with us, and they will help. You will be unrecognizable, and we shall contact your pilot to fly your private jet, just like we planned," Lovejoy told Cal as he picked up his pager.

"No," was Cal's response.

"Pardon."

"They will find me. There is no escape."

"Surely you do not feel that..." Lovejoy began, but Cal cut him off.

"I need you to leave.  I need time to think."

"I... Yes sir."

So despite Lovejoy's unbelievable want to stay, he was forced to go.  _There was no other option.  _He kept repeating to himself.  And there wasn't.  After Nathan Hockley's murder nine years ago, and it partly being Lovejoy's fault that the bullet had hit Nathan instead of himself, he always felt an obligation to Nathan's only son.  Of course the man who had shot the bullet had been caught and put to death, but Lovejoy still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that only a most loyal servant would feel.  So he swore to serve Nathan's only child's every want, and protect him diligently until the end.  So now he had come to a problem.  He felt that he must protect Cal, and yet Cal did not want to be protected.  Yes, he had come to a problem.  And finally, Lovejoy came to the conclusion that he _had_ to give Cal what he wanted.  There had been no other option.

The first thing that caught his eye was the photograph.  It was beautiful.  Her hair was down about her shoulders and she was laughing.  It had been the last time Rose had been truly happy around Cal.  Her eyes clearly stated that she was thrilled; shining with happiness, excitement, and...love?  

Yes, it was love.  Once upon a time, when Rose was twenty-years-old, she had loved Cal.  It had been absolutely perfect; two well-known actors crazy for one another.  _Where did I go wrong? _Cal asked himself as he sat on the bed, his head resting in his hands.

But he knew _exactly _where he had gone wrong.  

_"I can't go in here, silly," Rose told Cal, hitting his arm playfully as they stood outside a popular club._

_"Of course you can.  You're twenty-one, aren't you?"_

_"Just barely.  I..." Rose began as Cal dragged into the club.  "Cal, no!" Rose objected playfully, obviously not meaning the words that she spoke._

_So the couple shot their Ids at the man standing at the door, and walked in.  Rose clung to Cal's hand as she looked around herself, at the unfamiliar setting.  "Wow," was all she managed to say through the blaring music._

_"Isn't it wonderful?  You are having a marvelous birthday aren't you, Sweetpea?" was Cal's response before stopping a waitress and ordering two margaritas.  _

Rose hadn't minded, or even noticed; Cal's ordering for her.  And she had happily accepted the drink, along with seven others.  So needless to say, Rose had been a bit tipsy, and Cal, having ordered stronger drinks for himself, had also been quite drunk.  So the two had danced, sang karaoke, and had done countless other things that they wouldn't have even thought of, had they have been sober.

The two had actually ended up in a hotel room in God-knows-where, and Rose had been giving Cal a rather obscene lap dance.  Their feverish kissing had almost led into something else when Rose had said, "I don't want to do this."  And, well, Cal had hit her.

He had felt awful afterwards, as he should have, and had done everything in his power to make it up to her.  He had given her a heartfelt-apology, countless gifts, and enough red roses to last a lifetime of one's anniversaries.  But Rose had broken up with him soon after, but they still had remained friends, or as close to friends as one in their situation.  And Cal was a very loyal and understanding friend.  Except, that is, when they'd go out drinking.  That led him to hit Rose again.  So Rose had stopped going to bars with him.  And the hitting had stopped...for about a month.  For Rose and Cal's friendship had been getting further and further apart, and Cal had turned to drinking.  Yes, he had turned into a drunkard, and he was almost never sober.  But when he was, Cal would send her millions of flowers, apologize profusely, and promise to never hit her again.

Rose hadn't believed him of course, but she was scared of Cal.  Scared of what he was capable of doing.  So instead of talking to him about the problem, she had just avoided him.  But since they were always at the same parties it was next to impossible for them not to run into each other quite regularly.  

Cal would watch Rose at the parties.  He watched her long before she even knew he was there.  And he would let her be until he saw her talking to another man, and then he would interrupt the conversation, glare maliciously at Rose, and she would diligently scurry away.  Cal had despised any man that had come near Rose, and had been even more hateful to the one's that _she_ had approached.  

_She is mine, damnit!  She still is mine!  _He then paused and picked up the photograph of Rose.  _Why can't she see that? _He asked quietly.

His fingers then clenched the picture tightly, causing his fingers to turn white.  Delirious in his rage, he clenched the frame even more tightly, causing his fingernails to break from the pressure against the black metal.    _Your smiling at that fucking Dawson aren't you?  _Cal accused the photograph.  

But Rose continued to smile.  

"Well he doesn't love you."  

But the photograph seemed to disagree.  

"He doesn't!" 

Blood ran from his fingers and spilled over the picture.  Cal smiled, not noticing the pain.

"It hurts doesn't it? It hurts like fucking hell!"

He laughed maliciously as the blood covered the photo of Rose's face.

"I know it hurts!  Do you like it?  You caused the fucking pain, I'm giving it back!"

And with that said, Cal through the framed picture across the room, causing it to slam against the mirror above his dresser.  Glass shattered and the metal frame fell to the hardwood floor with a clunk.  When everything was quiet again, a gust of wind came from the open window, lifting the photograph into the air.  Cal watched as it drifted towards him, and landed directly in front of his feet.

"You bitch!" Cal shouted at the picture before ceasing the bloodstained photograph.  

"This is for the time you lied!" Cal said and ripped the picture in half.  "And this is for the time you denied me!" he shouted and ripped both of the halves into two.  "And this is for the time you told me you hated me!" Cal ripped each piece into half.  "And this is for the time you that you talked to that David Calvert!" Cal shouted and ripped each piece in half again.  "And this is for the time you met that fucking _Jack_ _Dawson_!" Cal screamed before ripping the pieces a final time and letting them fall to the floor.  

Cal just stood there for a second, enjoying the sense of power he felt.

But suddenly, Cal didn't feel powerful.  It hadn't been Rose he'd wanted to hurt; it had been that bastard, Dawson!  Falling to his knees, Cal scooped up the remainder of his only photograph of Rose, and in vain, tried to piece them together.  "What have I done?" he asked hoarsely as tears came to his eyes.  "I...I..." Cal began.  "I _hurt her!" _he shouted before reducing himself to a sobbing heap among the blood and shredded paper.

Engulfed in his sobs, he stood up, the tears falling from his cheeks like rain, and becoming mixed within the small puddles of blood on the floor.   He stumbled to his desk, his fingers fumbling with a piece of paper and a pen.  He feverishly began writing, not even noticing the dried blood on his fingers that now replaced his fingernails.  

He wrote three four-page letters within his last fifteen minutes of life.  The first he wrote was an apology to Rose, the second, an apology to Jack Dawson, and the third, and perhaps most important, was a letter addressed to his father.  

Cal had left the letters sitting upon his desk, then slowly trudged over to the sliding glass doors in his bedroom, and had stepped outside into the crisp air.  The sun was setting, casting brilliant shadows upon him as he climbed up onto the railing of the deck on the fourth story of his house. He had stood there for a moment, not taking his eyes off of the beautiful pink and orange sky.

And had jumped.


End file.
